


all things will unwind

by miraclemoon



Series: Looking at the Sun (ABO Series) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Codependency, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mating Bond, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Omega Steve Rogers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Bucky Barnes, Scenting, Steve doesn't know how to take care of himself, Teasing, They're both saps in love, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:31:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraclemoon/pseuds/miraclemoon
Summary: There were many things Steve didn't expect from the 21st century. Even after receiving the serum, when he was no longer bird boned and could actually consider himself healthy, he never exactly imagined himself getting pregnant.AKA, an ABO mpreg fic no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The official second part of "the pulse that rages for you". This piece can be read as a stand alone, but feel free to check out part 1! It gives some basic context to how they got here. This fic will be anywhere from 2-3 chapters long, still working on logistics. Enjoy!

Bucky lays on top of Steve like dead weight, ignoring the alarm that’s blaring a mere arm’s distance away. The noise becomes so incessant that Steve is jolted awake underneath him, and it's not long until he brings a hand over to nudge at his partner's shoulder, movements sluggish as he tries to block the noise away with his pillow.

“Buck,” Steve calls out, voice rough with sleep. No response. The man doesn’t even twitch, simply lays there as if not even a bolt of lightning could wake him from his slumber, but Steve doesn't let that dissuade him. Steve hardly waits another moment before pushing again, more purpose behind the action as his fingers curls around the socket of Bucky’s shoulder. He squeezes gently, trying to rouse his motionless mate.

“Ain’t foolin no one, Barnes. C’mon, I know you’re up.”

Bucky gives a pathetic groan in response, nuzzling his face deeper into the groove of Steve’s neck. His stubble tickles against Steve’s sensitive skin, and the blond fights off the urge to giggle at the action, unwilling to do anything that will feed Bucky’s currently playful behavior. After all, he’s gotta get the man out of bed, not give him another reason to stay in it.

“Hey, you’re the one who kept us up all night...gotta face the music, pal. Sam will tan your hide if you keep him waiting.”

The man scoffs at that comment, his two hands shifting away from their pillow to cradle at Steve’s tiny waist, calloused fingers dipping underneath the covers and seeking out Steve’s warm, soft skin.

“As if...‘s all your fault, Rogers. Smellin’ as good as you do, lookin’ prettier than sin. Can’t expect a fella to toss his cards when he’s dealin’ with a perfect hand.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

Steve leans up and kisses at Bucky’s temple, bringing a hand over to tousle at his unruly hair and scratch at his scalp with his blunt fingernails. Bucky’s scent is so thick in the room it’s practically palpable, a low rumble coming from deep in his throat signaling a pleased, at ease alpha. Steve lets Bucky indulge for a moment, lets him nose along the line of Steve’s jaw and gives his mate a few more kisses before gingerly pushing him off, establishing some distance. Bucky whines in protest, the brat, but sits up in the bed and finally reaches over to shut off the damn alarm, upset to see it’s already 4 am.

“Ya gotta quit spoilin’ me, Rogers,” Bucky begins, voice thick from sleep, “Used to be able to wake up at this time without a damn care.”

“You’re the one who chose not to sleep, Buck.”

“Oh, _please_. I got the back scratches that prove it was a joint effort.”

Steve blushes all the way up to his ears at the comment, bringing a pillow over to smack Bucky square in the face. The brunet doesn’t even bother to dodge it, simply retaliates by blowing a raspberry on Steve’s stomach.

Steve exhales an ugly laugh and rushes off the bed, making his way over to the bathroom before all rational is thrown out of the window. He’s unsurprised when he sees Bucky following like a puppy attached to its owner, his eyes endearing and his smile more radiant than sunlight itself. They’ve hardly made it to the doorway before Bucky’s arms wrap around Steve’s waist, his chest pressed flush against Steve’s back and his lips ghosting against the back of his neck.

Steve smirks in response, bringing a hand over to pat at Bucky’s cheek. Bucky’s lips drag across Steve’s nape, tongue poking out and eliciting a pleased sound from the blond. The alpha’s fingers fit perfectly into the ridges of Steve’s waist, anchoring him close by.

“Stay focused, soldier,” Steve warns, trying not to lean into his warm touch, “You gotta shower, don’t think anyone would appreciate you showing up reekin’ the way you do.”

Bucky grumbles and fights Steve the whole way, not so much in real disagreement but more to watch the cute furrow of Steve’s brows, or the way his lips purse in annoyance when Bucky is being insufferable. The brunet is light on his feet as he pulls Steve into the shower with him, wasting more time then he needs bringing the soap to a lather and washing his baby’s bruised and bitten skin. Bucky smirks at the teeth marks he left behind, and Steve simply rolls his eyes, pretending that he doesn’t love it all the same.

“Quit getting distracted,” Steve says as he’s pressed against the cool tiles of the shower stall, exhaling a pleased sigh as Bucky sucks a new hickey into his neck, his canines fitting perfectly into the grooves of his bond mark. The alpha plays and toys with the sensitive skin there, and it takes all of Steve’s energy to not melt into it, to not present and pull his mate in closer after being teased so deliciously. He’s grateful that at least the rational part of his brain is still working, the last thing they need is Bucky being late. But when Bucky laps his tongue out, presses it against Steve’s racing pulse and causes him to exhale sharply, Steve can hardly see straight. He won't admit it, but he loves the way Bucky has learned his body so intimately, adores the fact that his partner can so effortlessly pull Steve into such a warm, calm head space. But Jesus, it makes mornings like these all the more difficult. 

“Can’t help it,” Bucky kisses at Steve’s skin, hands roaming across his broad chest, thumbs skittering over healing bite marks. “Gonna miss ya, baby. 'S been awhile since we’ve been apart for more than a few days.”

“It’s only two weeks --”

“Only two weeks,” Bucky repeats, tone mocking, “Can’t believe I let you convince me this was a good idea, don’t know how the hell you managed that.”

“Hey, you’ll be back before you know it.”

He presses kisses across Bucky’s forehead, tucks a lock of wet hair behind his ear to continue peppering them across his face, trying to pacify at his mate.

“You promise you’ll be alright?”

“I promise, Buck.”

“And you’ll go see your doc if your stomach starts hurting again?”

“They were probably just cramps,” Steve shrugs “Besides, hasn’t bothered me in days.”

“Steve.”

Bucky’s voice is firm, worry knitted in every inch of his expression. He even stands taller after repeating his mate's name, desperate for some sort of reassurance that he'll be alright after their departure.

Steve simply nods in response, eyes fond as he nuzzles into Bucky’s neck.

“Alright. I’ll go.”

“And eat, too! God, you never eat enough.”

Steve exhales an exaggerated sigh, “Jeez Buck. Quit actin’ all mother hen on me.” He rolls his eyes, and Bucky pinches at his waist in retaliation.

“Maybe listen to me for once then, would’ja? Then I won’t have to worry myself half to death over it.”

He gives Steve one last possessive kiss before finally shutting off the water, stepping out of the stall to grab a towel. Bucky works quickly, towelling off his mate and pressing trails of kisses over every dry patch of skin. He works fast, but Steve can see how cautiously Bucky takes this task, as if he’s indulging in every last moment of it before he’ll be deprived of it. As much as he rolls his eyes and fights that he doesn’t have to be babied, Steve goes easily, knowing just how important this is for Bucky. He kisses his mate as a sign of thanks once he’s done, batting his lashes all pretty just the way Bucky likes it as they step back into the bedroom.

“I’ll call as soon as I have a chance.” the brunet reassures, mostly to himself.

“I know.”

The two weeks will breeze by, Steve tells himself, waving goodbye to his fella as he watches him climb into the jet, staying long enough in the brisk morning air to watch the jet leave the facility and disappear into the dark horizon.

He’ll see him in no time.

 

** 

 

Steve’s assistance is required on a mission three days after Bucky’s departure, and the blond couldn’t be more grateful for the distraction.

Sometimes being away from Bucky is manageable, pushed to the back of his thoughts when the majority of his days are packed from dawn until dark with strenuous tasks and assignments. He runs drills with new recruits, evaluates intel Clint collected on his last solo mission, does all that he can and more to divert from the fact that he will be returning to an empty bed that night.

Sometimes work is enough, but Steve is quick to learn that this time, it just isn’t. There is little available to distract from the hollowness that sits heavy in his chest, or the way his stomach twists and the cramps have returned after over a week of being without them. It’s infuriating, how Steve’s loneliness is already manifesting into physical symptoms, and the fact he hasn’t had a chance to chat with his fella in the days since his departure doesn’t help.

Steve stubbornly clings to the hope that a mission will help calm his nerves.

Even if fighting or work itself won’t appease his dejected feelings, staying active always makes time pass by faster, and that’s all Steve can ask for at this point. Besides, he’ll only be gone for a few days, he thinks to himself. Long enough for him to keep sane, and long enough for any resulting injuries to be healed up before Bucky returns back home later this month.

He’s on the jet ride waiting to reach their destination when Natasha scoots in closer to him, her knee bumping against his own as she presses something into the palm of his hand.

Steve eye’s down at the small packet, surprised by what he sees.

Scent blockers.

He glances over at the redhead, wondering if it’s not already obvious that he’s wearing them. It’s standard procedure for all agents, including betas, to wear them before missions to ensure their cover is not blown, and he could’ve sworn she watched him put them on before they boarded. Steve ponders for a moment, unable to fathom the purpose behind this gesture.

“Thanks, but I already got some.” he answers, but Natasha simply stares back at him, her gaze unwavering.

“Another few won’t hurt.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at that, confused. He’s already wearing four on his strongest pulse points, adding more would just be overkill. Any more is reserved for omegas in heat, and Steve isn’t due anytime this next week.

“I’ll be alright.”

“Trust me, Steve.” she pushes, noticing the hesitation in Steve’s gaze. He fights her practically until landing, but slowly appeases to her insistence, tearing open the packet with a mixture of confusion and frustration. He places the two additional scent suppressants underneath his gloves right over his wrists, much to Nat’s approval. He can’t say he’s happy about it, but he can’t remember a time where she wasn’t right.

Why Steve needs them, he doesn’t have a damn clue, but he knows better than to ignore Nat’s judgement.

 

** 

 

Their mission is to collect intel on a facility that is speculated to share connections with Hydra.

It’s hardly a difficult task, Steve is quick to navigate through the Eastern boundaries of the building while Natasha oversees the Southern section, wasting little time tearing through the rows of men that want him dead.   

While racing to retrieve his shield amongst the bodies of fallen men, Steve feels his stomach churn, a visceral sensation that catches him off guard. the rush of nausea that follows is so momentarily blinding that he damn near doubles over, confused by the sudden shift that he speculates if someone had tried to gas him out again. He brings a hand over his mouth, desperate to regain his composure but distracted by the minor convulsions in his body.

He’s hardly vulnerable for a few moments, but it’s far too long when in the heart of enemy territory.

One man puts Steve into a chokehold while he’s on his knees, but Steve is quick to react, swinging his elbow back until it comes in contact with the man’s side with bruising force. He gives a strangled groan and the blond uses the brief opening to take hold of his slack arm, throwing the man down onto the hard cement of the building. The masked agent writhes on the floor and Steve exhales sharply, swinging his leg over square across the man’s jaw before he can consider reaching for the holster of his gun.

“Hands off, I have a boyfriend.”

Steve rises slowly, the vertigo causing him to stumble backwards before he can will his raging heart to calm.

He inhales shakily, hearing the distant footsteps of approaching agents. Grabbing his shield, he returns on route to his destination, willing himself to stay focused even amongst his foggy thoughts.

 _You’re fine_ , he pushes on, barreling through the new flow of agents that attempt to stop him, _You’re okay_.

 

** 

 

“What the hell happened?”

Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Hi to you too, Buck.”

He’s back in their bedroom, adorning a regular cotton t-shirt and cozy pajama pants. Both of the items belong to Bucky, and somehow the familiar scent of his mate helps calm his nerves, makes the acidic taste that’s been lingering on the back of his throat dissipate a little. Even with the pixelated quality of the call, Steve is more than relieved to see his mate.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Buck, I’m just fine.” Bucky stares at him unimpressed, and the blond shrugs. “You’re welcomed to ask Dr. Gonzalez if you don’t believe me, she gave me clearance.”

His jaw is stiff and there’s an ugly cut across his cheek, but the injuries are merely superficial, they’ll be gone in less than twelve hours. However, Steve is careful to tilt the camera to frame his face though, last thing Bucky needs is to notice the bandages over his ribs. He’d gotten sloppy after that odd incident, but he doesn’t bother telling Bucky or even Nat about it. A minor detail, he thinks to himself, something they dont need to concern themselves with.

“How about you? Everything okay on your end?”

“It’s alright,” Bucky answers bitterly, and Steve knows he’s so irritated because he has to be away for so long. It’s almost endearing, knowing how Bucky has regained his more childlike qualities after all he’s suffered through, has learned to let himself be selfish in their relationship. It’s a true testament to his recovery, and Steve can’t help but want to feed it and give him anything he’s ever desired.

“Won’t be another week till I’ll be home.” the alpha sighs.

“Countin’ the days won’t help much.”

“You sayin’ you ain’t doin the same?”

Bucky perks a brow at that, unimpressed, and Steve can’t help but smile fondly, eyes tender.

“Course not,” the blond responds, voice gentle, “Just don’t get distracted out there. Last thing SHIELD needs is their best sniper slackin’ on the job, and last thing _I_ need is you getting hurt.”

“So keep me on track. When was the last time you ate?”

“Dinner, with Nat.”

Bucky hums in approval. “You been sleepin?”

“Trying. Your shirts help.” Steve pinches at the cotton shirt he’s wearing, stretching the material to bring it up and bury his nose into. He inhales deeply, lets the scent sit in his lungs for a moment, and exhales slowly, so _slowly_ , the gesture both to put Bucky to ease and help settle his own jittery nerves. He doesn’t know what exactly it is about Bucky being away this time, but the distance sits underneath Steve’s skin like a colony of ants scattering about, always present and so damn difficult to ignore.

Bucky is staring dumbly into the screen when Steve slowly returns eye contact, long lashes fluttering opened and teasing at the brunet. Steve’s lips curl into a smile, and Bucky exhales deeply, entranced.

“Fuck,” Bucky sighs, going stupid for a moment, “I’ll be home soon, okay doll? Keepin takin’ care of yourself, really helps me relax.”

“And you stay safe,” Steve pouts, plush bottom lip puffed out. “Last thing I want is Sam calling me to say that you fell on your head, or some other dumbass reason. Come back home to me in one piece, will ya?”

“Hell, you ask me to do _anything_ when wearing my clothes and I’ll agree to it, sweet thing.” Bucky winks in response, and they only have a few more moments before Bucky is forced to end their call.

Steve sleeps better that night, curled against Bucky’s side of the bed with the reassurance that his mate is still safe.

 

** 

 

The steadily creeping nausea that’s been piling up the last few weeks quickly manifests in its most aggressive form, causing Steve to spit up stomach acid well before the sun has even peeked from behind the horizon. Steve sits upright on the cold tiles of the bathroom until his knees bruise, his grip so tight that the rim nearly beckons to give underneath his fingers.

 _Jesus_ , he hasn’t been this nauseous since the last time the enemy gave him that ridiculous gas, but that was over a month ago and he’s been out of the field for a few days now. It was night when Steve stumbled into the bathroom, and it takes hours before his stomach resettles enough for him to consider getting up, mustering enough strength to get dressed and wash off all the sweat from his early morning ordeal.

He’s almost late to a mission briefing because of the whole fiasco, and Nat eyes him methodically as he presents information to the agents, desperate to hide any lingering symptoms. Not a single soul in the audience picks it up, but Nat knows him too well, has spent enough time with him to know his ticks or even recognize the faintest changes in his behavior. The entire session he clutches tightly at his knees from beneath the table, applying a steady pressure on his new bruises to distract from the slow churning of his stomach. For the most part, it works, but by the end of the meeting, when only he and Nat are left behind to tidy up the conference room and collect all remaining documents, Steve is beginning to break out into a cold sweat.

“Getting sick?” The red head presses the back of her hand against Steve’s forehead, causing the blond to jerk away from the sudden contact. He leans away from her, confused by how averse he is to her scent. Steve turns his head away, the scent sitting heavy and wrong in his lungs, and God, since when the hell was he ever bothered by Nat’s scent?

“I don’t get sick, Nat.”

She takes her hand away but continues to eye Steve critically, taking in the clamminess of his skin and the stiffness of his muscles. She shifts her stance and allows her expression to soften a bit, respecting the distance he reinforces between them. “Whatever it is, tea always helps. Come by my room tonight if you’re still not feeling well.”

Steve reassures her that it won’t be necessary, that this -- whatever this _is_ \-- will pass, much as other odd symptoms of his have before.

Symptoms seldom last longer than a few hours for a super soldier, so when Steve leaves in confidence, comforted in knowing that these feelings are fleeting, he doesn’t let it interfere with the hectic schedule he has ready for his day.

Except, Steve wakes up that following morning with the same problem, damn near missing his target from how quickly the nausea hits him. He’s foolish enough to continue refusing Nat’s help, even ignoring how the lack of sleep and constant exhaustion is affecting him. There is an ache deep in his bones that spread to his very core, practically stealing away his life force.

Steve hates the way he needs to excuse himself from meetings in fear of blowing chunks on an agent’s shoes, or the way he’s so damn bone-tired but can’t get a full night’s rest.

When Bucky calls him that evening, he takes note of Steve’s slouched shoulders, the dimness of his once radiant eyes. Even in the blotchy quality of the call, Bucky takes one good look at Steve and immediately scowls.

“I know how you get, but don’t go working yourself into the grave,”  he reprimands, and Steve actually welcomes Bucky’s protectiveness, wishes he could indulge in the flesh and blood of it instead of through a cold screen.

“I’ll be home as late as Friday,” Bucky tells him, voice firm and grounding. “You remember our promise, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, so damn tired. “I know. See you soon.”

Only a few more days to go. As stubborn as ever, Steve continues to cling to the idea that the serum will make this all magically go away soon enough, that the fatigue and nausea and bloatedness is probably just his body’s way of worrying over Bucky, of being forced to be separated from his mate after nearly two years of being attached to the hip.

It doesn’t feel plausible, but Steve clings to the thought with his very being. After all, he can’t think of a more logical reason behind it. He just misses Bucky, that’s all. It makes sense.

He accepts Natasha’s tea later that night, which _does_ help a little, but it does nothing to stop him from stumbling back into the bathroom come Friday morning, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as the stomach acid burns up his throat,

Steve’s ears are ringing so loud that he doesn’t even hear Bucky enter, doesn’t register the rumble of the elevator or even the sound of his mate’s voice. His head thunders like lightning crackling into the soil, and he hates the guilt that seizes him when Bucky suddenly finds him on the bathroom floor, panic at the sight before him.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, are you okay?” he brings a hand over and rubs at Steve’s back, laces his fingers through his sweat damp hair to smooth the matted strands away from his forehead. Bucky stares in utter shock,  taking in Steve’s pale complexion and current state.

“Baby, what’s wrong? You get sick?”

“I don’t _get_ sick.” Steve spits into the bowl, body heavy as if someone had just stuffed him with lead.

“The hell you make of this then?”

Steve wants to argue, but instead he retches into the toilet, throat going hoarse after doing this for days on end. He’s damn near ready to cry, upset that Bucky’s been back for all of two seconds and has to deal with his shit.

“How long’s this been goin’ on?”

He gives Steve a moment to collect himself, body heavy as he leans against the porcelain bowl.

“A week, I think...” he responds, limbs aching all over.

“A week.” Bucky repeats, his expression serious. “I’m guessing you haven’t gone to the clinic, have you?”

“Buck, I don’t -- I’m fine, really, I just --”

“Steven Grant Rogers, I will literally carry you there if you won’t walk there yourself. I haven’t seen you this sick since ‘37, and that was when you were a bag of bones.” Bucky rips off a piece of tissue and wipes Steve’s lips clean, brows knitted in worry. He cups at Steve’s cheek and forces eye contact between the two, his other hand firm on Steve’s shoulder to keep him up.

Steve nuzzles his cheek into Bucky’s palm, staring into his partner’s stormy gaze. He wants to fight, wants to argue that this is probably just a blip in his system, but he ultimately knows this is a losing battle.

Bucky still smells of gunpowder and sweat, adorning his entire combat suit minus his weapon’s vest. He was likely in such a hurry to return home that he didn’t even bother changing into more comfortable clothes. Steve tilts his head to take in Bucky’s full expression, and _God_ , even if he couldn’t see his face, he can smell the worry in the alpha’s scent, how his heady scent of cedarwood has stagnated into an acrid scent, unsettling and sitting heavy in the air, signaling his worry and anxiety from the entire situation. Steve can’t help but whine, his heart heavy and the guilt unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, chest tight with emotion, “Sorry for ruining your morning, you just got back --”

“Quit apologizing, sweetheart. Just wanna make sure you’re alright, okay? It’ll make me feel better if we get you to the doc, and then maybe they’ll say why you’re feelin’ this way. You’ve been worried about it too, haven’t you? Wondering why this has been happening.”

He kisses at Steve’s sweat glossed forehead, the gesture light and reassuring. Steve sighs into it, leaning into the gesture and aching for more of Bucky’s touch, more of his comfort.

“Please, baby? For me?”

Steve works at his bottom lip, exhaling slowly. He nods. “Come with me?”

“God, of course, sweetheart. Of course.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve hears some unexpected news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the award for most drawn out writing goes to moi. Heads up: I had too much fun writing Steve in the clinic so that part is pretty long. Also, sorry for those expecting NSFW content, that'll be pushed to the next chap!

Bucky’s known Steve long enough to be sure of this one simple truth:

That Steve Rogers, the love of his life and the one responsible for restoring his sense of autonomy and happiness, is a stubborn ass that does not listen.

There are seldom any parallels to the old lives they used to live,  but if there’s one thing Bucky is certain hasn’t changed, it’s how insufferable his beloved mate is. Apparently, not even a lifetime apart could change that about him.

As he narrows the scope of his sniper into his next victim, he can feel a dull throb against the nape of his neck, a low thrum of his bondmark as it surges to life. Bucky bites at his bottom lip, desperate to focus on completing this task to ensure a successful operation, but so damn distracted by the itch of his skin. Even in the middle of combat, he can’t stop worrying about Steve or what the hell’s been going on with his mate.

He hates how Steve won’t listen to his plea’s to go to the clinic, and it’s a goddamn wonder Rogers’ has survived this long without dropping dead. Bucky feels like he can’t even leave him alone for more than a few days or risk his partner keeling over in the middle of some meeting, so what the hell else is he supposed to do except worry? His baby hardly eats enough, barely rests, just doesn’t know how to take care of himself. Steve’s thrown all of his cards into saving others, but never leaves anything left for himself.

“When was the last time you ate?” Bucky asks that night, clutching his small tablet as he focuses on Steve’s pixelated face. He knows the answer even before the words leave his tongue, but he needs to ask, _wants_ to. He craves the reassurance that his omega is taking care of himself when Bucky is too far to do it himself.

Bucky watches the way Steve rolls his eyes, how he looks so exhausted from being constantly asked it. Tough, if Bucky can’t be there to make sure his sweetheart is eating, he’ll ask him every chance he’s got before he’s back at his side.

“Y’know, we aren’t boarding for another hour. Could go get yourself cleaned up first.”

Sam perks an eyebrow at him, already out of his suit and adorning comfortable workout clothes in preparation for the long ride home. Bucky knows that he should, that him getting comfortable changes nothing in regards to their arrival time, but the man stands stubbornly on the boarding area of the jet, clutching the handle of his bag as if his life depended on it. He tries to blink the fatigue away, reassures himself that there'll be coffee in the jet. In the entirety of his mission, Bucky feels like he hasn’t had a moment of rest. He’s slept, but it’s been poor, his arm instinctively reaching out to the other side of the bed only to grimace when he finds it empty. 

It’s so hard for him to breathe when he’s not close to Steve, to not get lost in the dark of his thoughts without remembering light still exists. Sam grounds him, but it's only ever a temporary solution. Nothing makes him feel more alive then being with his Stevie.

He’s called Steve every opportunity he had, and his worry only intensifies when he finds that with each passing day, Steve looks worse. He finds his partner drained of energy, his warm cheeks devoid of color and his expression sullen and exhausted, and it’s wrong, it’s so damn _wrong_.  

Whatever the hell’s going on, Bucky should be there with him!

When they board Thursday evening and arrive back at Shield well before the first light, Bucky wastes no time racing to their shared living space, leaving Sam behind with no more than a few short words. He’s too preoccupied to think of pleasantries, especially when he’s been worried sick over his Stevie since the moment he left.

When he enters their apartment, an acrid scent floods his nostrils, the odor so pungent it nearly makes him gag. His nose stings and his eyes water, but it only solidifies his anxiety, only makes him tear through their apartment with an even more established urgency. The adrenaline courses hot and fast through his body, every nerve and fiber sparked to life by the smell of a distressed omega -- of _his_ distressed omega. 

After practically kicking their bedroom door off its hinges and slipping in the middle of the hallway from damn near tripping over his own feet, Bucky finds Steve curled in on himself in the bathroom, clutching the rim of the toilet with his head hanging low.

He takes notes of Steve’s pale skin, the sheen of sweat over his skin. He touches his baby like he's made of glass, as if one wrong move and he'll shatter apart onto the very ground. When he establishes eye contact, Steve stares at him unfocused, his lips twisting in disgust, surely guilty of the sight he makes. His baby’s so self-sacrificing, and Bucky just wishes he would give himself a break, let himself live without justifying reprimanding himself for being human.

“Come with me?”

God, his Stevie's voice sounds so wrecked, so weak against the silence of their apartment. Bucky can practically hear his beloved's heart beating, can feel it raging in his own body. Bucky leans in closer, desperate to steal away Steve’s worry and shoulder it all to himself. “Of course, sweetheart. Of course.”

As if he’d ever leave Steve’s side after seeing him like this.

He kisses the high points of Steve’s cheeks and brings an arm around his waist, his movements slow and even.

“Can you walk?” Bucky asks softly, resisting the urge to just pick Steve up right then and there and carry him to the clinic himself. Hardly any souls are awake at this God forsaken hour, maybe that’ll help convince Steve…

“Yeah,” Steve says instead, too proud to even ask that of his partner, “Yeah, I just...need your shoulder.”

“Okay, doll,” Bucky nods, letting Steve establish their pace, “Anything you need, just tell me.”

 

**

 

Steve sits on the clinic’s mattress, cradling a small trash can in between his hands. Bucky stands right beside him like a guardian, his posture stiff and unrelenting as he fixates on some far off wall. Steve watches him work at his jaw, see’s the twitch of his fingers, his entire body tighter then a live wire. He shouldn’t be worrying so much when Steve’s certain that this is nothing to be concerning themselves with, but he still brings a steady hand over and laces their fingers together, giving his partner's hand a reassuring squeeze. Bucky jerks from the sudden contact, but when he glances over at Steve, offering a tender smile that makes Steve’s cheeks heat up, the omega can already feel some of the anxiety ebb away from his chest.

After all, there’s nothing to be worried about.

Bucky reciprocates the action by squeezing Steve’s hand firmly, even bringing his other hand to fully cover Steve's left hand. Steve hum's against the contrast, comforted by the heat that emanates from his flesh and blood hand and delighting in the chill of the metal one. Bucky only started touching Steve with that hand in the last year or so, one of his largest hurdles during his recovery being accepting that his metal arm should not be isolated when he formulates his own identity. After all, that arm is just as much of Bucky as his eyes, his lips, nose. Steve loves it with every ounce of his being, is comforted when Bucky doesn’t hesitate to initiate contact with it anymore, because even if it was once viewed as a weapon, Bucky is now the sole orchestrator of his body, and he's never used it to hurt Steve in the time they've been reunited. 

Steve feels odd admitting it, but he already feels better compared to just twenty minutes ago, as silly as that realization feels to admit. His stomach doesn’t lurch, the sweat has dried on the back of his neck, and aside from some vertigo and mild nausea, he’s doing much better. Regardless, he’s too cautious to go more than a few feet without keeping the small trash can handy -- the last thing he needs is embarrassing himself in front of his primary physician.

He watches Dr. Gonzalez thumb through his file, taking down notes on the borders of the empty pages. “Nausea, fatigue, bloatedness -- not very characteristic symptoms of yours, Mr. Rogers. I don’t see much of this reported in previous visits,” she says to herself, and Steve simply nods. It’s exactly why he’s here, after all. To get some answers.

“How long ago did you say these symptoms started?”

“Mostly last week. Probably Wednesday morning. That’s when the nausea got bad.” Bucky’s hand is covering his own and he can feel his mates thumb rub idle circles over the back of his hand, the gesture soothing and so damn relaxing. He shifts closer to his mate, pleased to have him by his side.

“How about _before_ it got bad. Did this immediately start intense or were there more mild symptoms?”

Steve thinks that through for a moment, trying to be as accurate as he possibly can. “Yes. It started...a few weeks back? But back then, it wasn’t really anything. There were cramps and I was a little achy, but nothing as aggressive. It was hardly anything, I didn’t pay it any mind.”

He can feel Bucky eye him, and Steve resists the urge to pinch him in response, knowing that they probably wouldn’t be here if he just listened to Bucky’s earlier attempts to see a doctor. Dr. Gonzalez is quiet for a moment, quickly jotting down additional notes.

“Alright. Do you remember when your last menstrual cycle was?”  

“Week of the 14th, last month. It was just spotting though, nothing heavy.”

Steve shifts in his seat, confused by how clear headed he feels now, how the exhaustion still sits underneath his skin but isn’t as demanding as earlier. His grip tightens over the small bin and Bucky squeezes his hand, reminding Steve of his presence, that he isn’t going anywhere without his permission. Steve reciprocates by leaning his head over Bucky’s shoulder, breathing in deep his mate’s scent to ground himself in the tangibility of his partner. In that moment, Steve can swear he can feel the stress begin to dissipate from his body, can feel his chest release the pressure that’s been held captive in his body. It helps soothe the ache of his muscles, tunes out the static that’s been raging through his head.  

It was probably all just in his head, he settles. Why else would he feel better when nothing has changed except Bucky being back?

He glances over at the doctor, watching the way she purses her lips and continues scribbling notes down. She asks him more questions regarding Steve’s diet, his sleep schedule, all procedural and everything he anticipated. She even takes a blood sample to run through the lab, and Steve simply rolls up his sleeve and lets the nurse nick him, hardly even batting a lash.

Both the nurse and the doctor leave to collect lab results, and Bucky brings a hand over to rest on Steve’s waist, pulling him in closer in their brief moment of privacy.

“How ya doin’, doll? You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve responds with confidence, telling the truth this time. “Feel better with you here.”

“Charmer.” Bucky smirks, but the worry hasn’t left his expression even when he leans in to kiss Steve’s cheek, brings his flesh and blood hand to run through the blond’s hair. Steve sighs, aching to close the distance from his mate.

“‘M serious, Buck. Feel a hell of a lot better with you here, dunno why.”

“Don’t worry, ain’t gonna let you talk me through another long mission again. Not unless you’re comin’ with me.”

Steve smirks. “Deal. Dunno how you’re gonna pitch that to Fury though.”

“I’ll find a way.” he kisses Steve on his forehead and there’s a knock on the door, Dr. Gonzalez returning with a new stack of papers attached to her clipboard. She directs her gaze back at Bucky, who steps away from Steve’s immediate proximity.

“Mr. Barnes, if it’s alright with the two of you, I’d like to have a moment alone with Mr. Rogers.”

The furrow of Bucky’s brows intensifies at the request, his scent immediately becoming thicker as a spike of worry seizes his body. He glances over at Steve, gauges his reaction and tightens his hold on his hand for a moment longer.

Steve would be a liar if he didn’t admit the prospect of this terrified him a bit, but he gives Bucky a reassured look, kisses his cheek and straightens his stance. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m alright. It’ll just be a moment.”

Bucky inhales deeply, his eyes retreating quickly to eye at the physician before nodding. “I’ll be right outside.”

“I know.” Steve leans in and kisses his cheek as a reassurance, and Bucky makes his way to the exit, closing the door behind him. Steve almost feels bare without Bucky here, can feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand at attention, but he trusts Dr. Gonzalez’s judgement, knows this was just to respect his confidentiality.

“I have your results, and I want you to know that your health is not compromised in any way. However, that will only continue to be the case if you proceed with caution these following months.”

Steve eyes her critically, confused. “Okay...but I can’t say I follow.”

She steps closer to him and flips through the packet to another page, circling a particular section.

“Mr. Rogers, have you taken an at-home pregnancy test in the last month or so?”

Steves brows nearly shoot up to his hairline at the question, caught off guard. “No, I haven’t. Never found the need to, I haven’t been off my birth control once after being reunited with Bucky.”

“Right. Your IUD is still active, and will be for several more years, you wouldn’t think it was necessary.”

She continues rummaging through papers and Steve can feel his heart about ready to beat out of his chest, the walls of the room twisting and the air stagnating. Sweat collects on his brow and a new rush of nausea seizes him, not like the one he’s been currently experiencing, but stemming from the sheer anxiety of this situation.

_Why would she possibly bring this up?_

He swallows hard, willing to hide the strain in his voice. “Dr. Gonzalez, with all due respect...I don’t understand the purpose behind these questions.”

She nods, and Steve watches her expression soften, follows her movement as she sets the clipboard down on the table behind her. She leans against it and smiles at him, and that alone only intensifies Steve’s worry.

“I asked you these questions because we detected positive hCG levels in your blood sample. This hormone is only produced during a pregnancy, which would explain each one of the symptoms you reported earlier. Your nausea is more than likely morning sickness, Steve. You’re currently six weeks pregnant.”

Steve stares dumbly at her, his mouth opening to say something, _anything_ , but the words die in his throat, won’t form against his tongue and won’t make it out to the open.

“I’m not pregnant,” he says incredulously, unable to fathom the thought of it. “No, I _can’t_ be. It’s not possible.”

Dr. Gonzalez raises an eyebrow, having full anticipated his reaction. “You’re right, it doesn’t seem possible. Statistically you’re on a form of birth control that is over 99% effective, but that doesn’t consider extraneous variables such as being exposed to a substance that would force you into an early heat and overall tamper with your biology. Your cycle has been so regular that perhaps the sudden shift and increase in hormones during such a short period of time was an opportune moment for a pregnancy to occur.”

She pauses for a moment, watching the color drain from Steve’s face, the way his fingers dig into the small basket hard enough for the metal to give underneath his grip. The physician takes a step closer, her movements slow as if she’s approaching a skittish animal. “What I’m saying is, it’s very possible, Steve. You’re very healthy, and it was an option, even if it wasn’t your anticipated result. I had guessed this was the case even before the blood sample, but it only solidified it. It’s why I asked your mate to step outside. That way, you could tell him on your own terms, or choose for yourself how you wished to proceed.”

Steve swallows thickly, feeling as if the earth is shifting beneath him. “How am I okay?” he asks brokenly, bringing a hand over to cradle his midsection. “I was in combat earlier this week,” he says hurriedly, the words coming out in one breath. “Is it, am I --”

“You’re okay,” she reassures, bringing a hand over to squeeze at Steve’s knee. “If you mentioned things such as heavy bleeding or intense pain  then I’d be much more concerned, but at the moment you’ve reported standard symptoms for the 6 week mark. The nausea is normal, Steve, so is the fatigue. But understand that it’s crucial you take a step back from any future combat operations or strenuous activity for the rest of your pregnancy, _especially_ during your first trimester. If you want to follow through with your pregnancy, avoiding a miscarriage is highly dependent on you stepping back as Captain America.”

Steve’s heartbeat is thundering through his ears, piercing through his body. He bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, unprepared for this entire situation and all that it entails. He can feel Dr. Gonzalez staring down at him, offering him a sympathetic gaze.

“Again, this is your choice, and your choice includes an abortion if you see fitting. As an unplanned pregnancy, we can schedule one as early as --”

“ _No_ ,” Steve says, voice strong as he shakes his head. “No, God no, I’d _never_.” Steve clutches tighter to his midsection, trying to find his strength. He’d never even consider the idea, wouldn’t entertain it for a fraction of a moment. If there really is something growing in him, he’d never steal away its chance without at least talking with Bucky about it.

Steve inhales a shuddering breath.

“But I...do I really have to step back?” If the pregnancy was hard to imagine, the idea of not engaging in combat or being in the front lines of missions is even more difficult. The thought of being idle for too long sits wrong with him, keeping busy until the point of exhaustion has become second nature to him.

“At least from fighting,” Dr. Gonzalez answers, finality in her tone. “You shouldn’t be permitted in any physically taxing missions. I can write a referral to Fury and Hill as early as today with your consent, find a temporary replacement for someone who can fill Captain America’s shoes. I’ll also include Barnes in it, it’s crucial for mates to stay close together during a pregnancy. Symptoms only became worse when bonded mates are separated, and I’m sure you’d much rather do without the constant sickness. It explains why the last two weeks felt more intense regarding your symptoms.”

Steve nods dumbly, gaze scattering across the room, desperate for something to lock onto. He can feel his nose begin to itch, his shoulders start to tremble. His vision glosses over and he can’t stop the rush of tears that seize him, can’t bring himself to keep his composure long enough to return to their bedroom. His cheeks go bright as he’s momentarily blinded, the tears rushing so hard and fast that they dribble down and soak into his jeans, spill in between the gaps of his fingers. He’s sure that Bucky is pacing outside, clearly alarmed from the sudden flare of his bond mark after Steve’s surge of emotions.

"Am I really pregnant?" he asks in between tears, his face going hot. He has to ask her, he needs to be _sure_. He's terrified of being too happy, of indulging in the fantasy of parenthood only for it to be fabricated. Fake. After all, this wasn't the life Steve imagined, wasn't the one he anticipated after accepting the serum. He never saw himself as anything more than a soldier, never thought he deserved more.

Dr. Gonzalez nods in response, her hand coming over to squeeze at his shoulder.

"Yes, Steve. You can look at your file if you don't believe me, it's all if you want further confirmation."

"No, I-I believe you," he exhales shakily, unable to catch his breath.

His throat’s gone tight and it’s hard to speak, but he requests for Bucky to come back inside, endeared when he watches Bucky all but race inside, alerted at the sight of his crying omega and the heaviness of his scent.

Steve looks at the love of his life with unsurmountable adoration, momentarily blindsided by everything that is James Buchanan Barnes. It’s so overwhelming, seeing Bucky knowing that his life rages inside him, that this is a life they’re able to live. He never imagined ever being this happy after waking up from the ice, and he can’t keep the feelings at bay, can’t suppress such visceral emotions that have bled out into the open. He cries into his palm and Bucky rushes forward, hands steady on Steve’s shoulders.

“Stevie -” he calls out, crowding into Steve’s space. “Hey, baby, listen, it’s okay...whatever it is, we’ll work this --”

“Bucky,” Steve laughs, soft giggles bubbling up his throat. He blinks wetly at his partner, and Bucky stares at him in horrified concern, unable to read the situation or figure out what could possibly make Steve react this way.

“Jesus, Buck, what could I have ever done to deserve you...I love you, Buck, I do, always.” he leans in close and kisses Bucky square on the lips, smiles into the gesture and jumps back on his feet to embrace his mate in earnest. Bucky is stiff as Steve manhandles him, his gaze shifting between Steve and the giggling doctor.

“What --”

“Bucky,” Steve repeats his name like a prayer, stupidly giddy.

“Jeez Rogers, just tell me! Are you alright, baby? What happened!?”

“I’m okay,” he smiles, eyes shining, “We’re okay, Buck. We’re just fine.”

He leans in and kisses Bucky again, but there’s more fire in the action, more purpose behind his hands as they grip at Bucky’s waist. Dr. Gonzalez has already stepped out at this point, and Steve’s body sings to life, urging Bucky in closer.

“Take me to bed,” he whispers, cupping at his partner's cheeks with wet palms, lips ghosting over the shell of Bucky's ear. 

“God, please, take me to bed, Buck.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I've decided that male omegas can have menstrual cycles, for no purpose other than I wanted to. If they can pop out babies it makes sense they'd also have a period. Also, for anyone who read the first part of this series and is curious - the drug Steve was affected by is no longer in his system and has been out for weeks now. It made for an interesting first week for our super soldiers though *wink wink*
> 
> Also, Bucky being particularly antsy during his mission is credited to him unconsciously knowing something is up with Steve (even if he doesn't realize what it is). Alpha's are probably scary fuckers esp when they're worried about their pregnant omegas lol. rip everyone who got in Bucky's way during his mission. 
> 
> This fic will likely be 4 chapters long, it's been a lot more fun to write then I expected. Also, big thanks to all the lovely's who have commented/kudos'd this fic, you're all wonderful and your support keeps me posting c:
> 
> (i promise nsfw content is coming next chap lol)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content ahead. Apologies for any grammar mistakes.

They go stumbling into the elevator, a mess of limbs and tongues as they trip over each other’s feet. Steve bites down on Bucky’s bottom lip the moment his hip collides with the railing, his teeth digging in so deep that rivulets of red begin to well up underneath. Bucky gasps at the flash of pain, but Steve flattens his tongue against the injury, the touch soothing and gentle to combat the throbbing ache.

Bucky exhales sharply, and Steve smirks in response, his piercing eyes holding the brunet’s gaze.

 _Your move_.

Bucky can see the challenge in Steve’s eyes, in the way his sinful lips curl into a coy smile. He invades Bucky’s space until the man momentarily forgets how to breath, trapped in a daze filled with gold, blue, and red. Steve steps so close that it forces all else out of focus, Bucky’s body buzzing with the thrill of reuniting with his partner. The colors muddle together though they never lose their vibrancy, they simply pull Bucky in by the collar and demand every ounce of his unwavering attention.

It’s stifling, _suffocating_. Immersing yourself in someone else’s world without knowing how to return to your own. But hell, that was the case in their tiny apartment in Brooklyn, and that’s currently the case now, in this elevator which is cloaked in their secrets, carrying their secrets throughout the building.

Bucky can’t help but lean in and kiss Steve again, right to those obnoxiously bright lips of his. He kisses the line of his jaw, the apples of his cheeks - loses himself in the softness of Steve’s skin and the warmth that bleeds into his fingertips. He navigates across every inch of Steve’s face and soars on the content sighs his mate offers in return, already so gone even though they’ve hardly started.

Bucky watches the sweat collect on his mates brow, takes note of how Steve’s breathing picks up when Bucky finally separates their kiss. He can tell Steve’s counting the seconds until they reach their bedrooms, where they can let go and embrace the impending free fall that comes with diving into each other’s goodness.

Bucky crowds in closer and Steve keens, long lashes fluttering closed and his body pliant against the railing. He waits for Bucky’s next move, tests him with a heated look that electrifies Bucky’s skin. The blond licks at his swollen bottom lip and exhales raggedly, as if they’re in the middle of making love and not still dancing around foreplay. Bucky knows the game they’re playing and his blood is jumping to join in, to dive into Steve’s scent and take him right there in the elevator, damn it if - _when_ \- they get caught.  

“Bucky,” Steve gasps, and the alpha growls lowly in response, trying to blink away the rush of pheromones that is surging through his body at the sight of his wanting, willing mate. He has to stay sane, needs to. He has so many damn questions resting on his tongue, but Steve won’t give him space to focus, won’t let him stay clear headed enough without reigniting his insatiability. When he takes a step back, attempting to establish distance, Steve takes two forward, one hand curling behind Bucky’s neck and the other resting on his stubbled cheek, pulling him in for another searing kiss. The man staggers upon contact but ultimately abandons his revolve, giving into Steve’s plea for intimacy.

Bucky hates how easily Steve pulls him into his orbit, because he’s _worried_ and just an hour ago he’d returned home to Steve nauseous and sick, and now, now --

“C’mon,” Steve writhes, hips wriggling in response as his fingers skitter down to curl around Bucky’s waist, thumbs teasing at the edges of his belt. He’s looking at Bucky through hooded eyes, unbothered by the closed elevator door as if it’s completely unrealistic that someone will activate it before they reach their floor. They’ve probably already stunk up the elevator at this point, arousal heavy in the air and potentially igniting suspicion to future patrons who’ll show up after the super soldiers are gone.

The thought of that makes Bucky smirk; it’s not like it would be their first time fucking in some odd corner of SHIELD, but he doesn’t quite feel like indulging in the risk this time. Call him selfish, but he doesn't want to share Steve today, not when he’s acting so damn sweet and smelling so _good_.  

Bucky sighs as he feels Steve kiss at the corner of his lip, breathing in his scent and taking in the comfort of his touch. The dread that had poisoned him earlier continues to flow wild and free through Bucky’s veins, but he’s trying to tame his doubt, trying to put his unease to rest. Steve won’t stop kneading at his skin with clumsy fingers, won’t stop seeking out his mouth every time they go more than a few minutes without kissing, and as stubborn as Bucky can be, he can’t resist submitting to Steve's urges. He listens to the movements of Steve’s body and sways closer until the blond sighs in resignation, delighted and so damn eager.

Bucky doesn’t stop moving until their chests are pressed together, two hearts raging so fervently it could send the whole building down into a mess of gravel and dust.

Nothing’s changed.

Even in the nights where they were more strangers than friends, Bucky remembers the hint of sugar in Steve’s scent, the jolt of confusion that arose when he fully indulged in the sweetness of the blonde’s scent. Bustling harbors had muted his ears, the tang of sea salt fresh against his skin, and the faraway taste of brown sugar lingered on the back of his tongue even before he’d kissed the man. It didn’t matter that they were hundreds of miles away from Brooklyn, that they’d survived a lifetime apart or that it wasn’t their first time. It _always_ feels right when Bucky steps this close to Steve, when he settles back into the crook of his partner’s neck and can relax knowing he’s _home_.

The alpha breathes so deep that he chokes on his mates scent, lungs expanding so far that they ache and burn. But he can’t help it, he can’t stop. His sweetheart’s never smelled this good before, the usual tartness of Steve’s scent fading into a sickly sweetness the brunet isn’t familiar with. _Like syrup,_  he thinks, smiling to himself.

A jolt of anxiety cracks through his again, and it’s the only thing that brings him back to reality and reawakens his focus.

He exhales sharply, listening to Steve gasp as he brings his lips over to ghost against the shell of the man’s flushed ear.

“You need to tell me,” Bucky breathes, grinding his hips forward and pressing Steve deeper into the railing. The blond sighs at the gesture but he nods, holding Bucky’s gaze as the man swallows thickly.

“I won’t touch you if you don’t tell me. I just -- I have to know. Are you alright?”

The question rests heavy in the air, all of Bucky’s anxieties manifesting and growing with every passing second of silence. It takes him a moment, but Bucky watches as Steve’s lips curl into a stupid smile, leaning over to whisper against the alpha’s ear in return, the touch so light that Bucky shudders at the contact.

“I’m okay,” the omega responds with confidence, tone light and playful. “I’m okay, Bucky, we’re okay, we’re great.”

Bucky groans, letting some of the tension seep from his shoulders. “You promise?” He whispers, eyes earnest as he dives into the baby blue of his Stevie’s eyes. He trusts him, he _does_ , there’s no doubt about that. He’s just having trouble controlling the dread that’s started to grow teeth and claws.

Bucky watches Steve blink wetly at his mate, and as calm as he seems right now he can't forget the memory of Steve crying in the clinic earlier, hunched forward with tears spilling into his palms.

“You gotta be straight with me, sweetheart.” He begs, desperation filling each word. “You gotta tell me if something’s --”  
Steve kisses him immediately, bringing both hands over to frame at Bucky’s cheeks. He sweeps his tongue out and sucks at Bucky’s bottom lip, inhales when Bucky exhales and gives him everything in the kiss, right down to the very last ounce of his breath.

“I’ll tell you,” Steve nods, pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “Oh, _God_. I’ll tell you, Buck, I will, promise. But first --”

Steve steadies both hands on Bucky’s shoulders and wraps his legs around the man’s waist, burying his nose in the brunet’s hair.

“You need to take me to bed.” he supplies, and Bucky can feel the jolt of arousal from the very base of his spine. He couldn’t move faster as he finally punches the number to their floor, watching the way it lights up and jolts the elevator into motion. He’d been so damn distracted that he didn’t even realize they were still on the clinic’s floor.

Steve perks an eyebrow at him and Bucky meets his sass with a devouring kiss, sneaking to grab a handful of Steve’s ass. Bucky smirks at the way Steve gasps from the contact, and he watches the way Steve's eyes wander and calculate Bucky's every move. Instead of antagonizing his mate as he usually would from being teased, the blonde digs his blunt fingernails into Bucky's scalp, rutting forward against Bucky's hips until he exhales a low, shaken breath.

Their rhythm is disrupted once they stumble out of the elevator, heading blind into their bedroom and letting pure instinct drive them forward. Steve’s knees give out when they press against the edge of the bed, and the blond goes easily, gripping at the vest of Bucky’s uniform to bring him down with him.

There’s no teasing anymore, no dawdling. Steve all but tears at the leather of Bucky’s suit and Bucky yanks down the zipper of Steve’s jean, flicks open the button of his pants. He wriggles Steve out of his shirt and watches as his mate sink into the mattress, lovely pale skin spotchy with a red blush that’s traveled across his sternum and sprinkled down to his knees.

Steve stares at him behind heavy lashes, bringing a hand over to cover at his face as he’s slowly undressed and devoured by Bucky’s gaze. When his mate brings a hand over to ghost across Steve’s skin, the touch featherlike and tantalizing, the omega gasps sharply at the sensation, pushing up to meet Bucky’s hand.

“ _C’mon,_ ” Steve begs after Bucky wastes away minutes appreciating the contours of his body, hardly doing more than teasing and letting his fingers wander into the many grooves of his ribs and hips. “Quit stallin…”

Steve pouts when Bucky skims past his waist and down to the man’s thighs, completely ignoring the man’s throbbing cock that’s tenting his briefs. Bucky smirks as he eyes the wet patch beginning to form, too entranced to resist pressing a calloused finger over the spot. He feels Steve’s hips twitch upward, and he slowly begins to inch his underwear down, exposing the tip of Steve’s cock. Bucky makes a game of slowly revealing the length of his mate’s cock, teasing at the fabric so that it presses and rubs against the underside of Steve’s cock.

After an eternity, he finally slips the man out of his briefs, hurdling them across the room to some unknown corner.

He listens to Steve inhale sharply, the breath trapped in his lungs and stuttering in the exhale. Bucky eyes the curve of Steve’s cock as it rests against his lower abdomen, humming in approval at the sight he makes. The alpha perks an eyebrow, and Steve simply rolls his eyes, feigning disinterest.

Bucky holds the man’s gaze as he leans down to swipe his tongue across the pool of precum that’s settled on Steve’s abs, completely avoiding his mate’s engorged head. Steve tries to bite down the desperate whine that follows from this small gesture, and he grips tightly at the sheets, overwhelmed and over eager.

“I’m stallin’?” Bucky smirks, letting Steve’s taste dance against his tongue. “Nah, just takin’ my time, sweetheart.”

Bucky creates a trail of kisses that skitters back up to Steve’s chest, tongue laving at the juncture between his pecks.

“Well, could you maybe hurry it up and -- _ah!_ ” Steve squeaks, thrown off balance when the tip of Bucky’s tongue finds his nipple. His flesh and blood hand cups at Steve’s other peck, twisting and pulling at the bud as the other is lavished with kisses. It shocks Steve so intensely that he twitches away from his touch, a full body shiver consuming him.

The alpha eyes him curiously at the unexpected response, moving his hands away as if he’d just burned his mate. It surprises him so much that Bucky hits the breaks for a moment, eyeing his mate’s expression. Sure, Steve’s sensitive as hell, but it’s never this bad so soon.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers quickly, a little bug eyed. “S-Sorry, they’re just -- a little sensitive, is all.”

“Want me to leave them alone?” Steve’s nipples have always been responsive to Bucky’s touch, it’s nothing new that Steve’s easily riled up from having them teased a bit. It usually takes a little longer before he reacts so viscerally, and albeit their eagerness, Bucky can’t resist stopping to check in with his mate.

Steve shakes his head immediately at Bucky’s question, lips pursed out into a frown. “No,” he answers adamantly, puffing his chest out for Bucky to tease, “I want it.”

 

***

 

Bucky struggles to imagine life before being Steve’s.

Static images of old harbors and peeling wallpaper often are the first to come to mind - conjuring up images of a life Bucky hardly remembers living. He vaguely recalls odd things like his ma’s apple pie, or the first time he was big enough to fit into his pa’s old slacks. He remembers the brick stone of empty buildings he used to pass on the walk to the docks, and he remembers the aging dog his landlord used to own that always sat by the steps of their crummy apartment.

Bucky recalls odd details, and if he’s being honest, he hardly remembers the first time he actually met Steve.

He blames his mate for that. Bucky puzzles together a dirty alleyway, the sight of blood soaking into the collar of Steve’s ironed white shirt, but he doesn’t remember who they were fighting or why or hell – how old they even where. The only thing he remembers next is meeting Steve’s ma for the first time after helping his fella home, but the majority of the memory is a total blur.

What Bucky _does_ remember though, after months of recovery when he’s pressing Steve against the wall and kissing the man for the first time since before his fall, was this:

The first time Steve had presented as an omega.

The scene comes alive in a vibrant display of stark colors, the memory blossoming to the forefront of his thoughts so intensely that he shudders against Steve’s lips upon contact. Bucky tucks himself into the crook of Steve’s neck, nosing along the man’s faded, old bondmark as he shivers from the familiar scent of his separated mate. The scar is still there, but after decades of separation their mark has become null, an old remnant of the promise they once held. He remembers blond hair and bloody knuckles, and there’s the smell of burnt cinnamon curling through the air, invasive and volatile as it tears through Bucky’s lungs and keeps his breath held hostage.

He remembers the utter shock that came from his surging protectiveness, how the very marrow of his bones screamed to _protect_ the smaller man and get him home safe before anyone else caught whiff of his scent. The desire didn’t stem from satisfying his own bravado and machismo, or stroking his own ego that he could keep safe an omega experiencing their first heat.

Bucky was eternally loyal to Steve before he’d presented, and changing that simply due to the man’s assignment felt vile and practically unrealistic.

Steve had presented at 17, long after he and the rest of Brooklyn assumed he was simply a beta when he’d failed to have his first heat or rut. To Steve’s displeasure, and Bucky’s shock, they couldn’t be more wrong.

He tried visiting in the week Steve was stuck at home, but Bucky could hardly make it down the hall to his fella’s apartment before the omega’s scent stuck to his tongue like fresh syrup, rippling wave after wave of sheer want and desire which crippled him to his very core. Bucky attempted several times to visit, and he tried to accept his sweaty palms and raging heart as some biological regularity to an alpha responding to an omega in heat. Of course he’d be a little tense, and yeah, so what if he was a little hard after catching a whiff of his scent?

It was normal.

What _wasn’t_ normal was how it had left Bucky restless hours later, tossing in his sheets with a hand on his dick until his knot was about to pop. Sweat covered his body and for the following nights after, Steve’s name was always fresh on his lips, igniting fantasies that coiled deep in the brunet’s gut and branched down to the very tips of his toes.

When Bucky thinks back on this memory, he can vividly remember the surge of emotions that whirled and consumed him during those long days separated from Steve.

Dread. Worry. Curiosity. Desire.

And most notably: shame.

In the last few days of Steve’s first heat, when the man’s scent had calmed down and he was no longer riding at the height of a wave, Bucky had quipped a dry joke, left some fresh bread his ma had baked, and left.

Back then, he couldn’t fathom being in the same room with Steve for more than a few moments.

Not because he didn’t want to, never.

It was the fact that he _did_ that terrified him so intensely.  

“Do you remember?” Bucky asks the man, as if Steve’s the one struggling to piece together his fragmented memories, as if he’s the one trying to recover his old life and regain his sense of autonomy.

Steve hardly waits before he answers, “Yes.” the declaration filled with an earnestness that makes Bucky’s teeth itch. The damn punk doesn’t even know what particularly Bucky’s suggesting, but the brunet smiles all the same, lulled by the man’s constant reassurance.

Steve never hesitates, never makes Bucky wait or beg to be told he’s loved and wanted after all of the atrocities he’s committed. He never sits underneath Bucky’s skin and pick pick _picks_ at his insecurities, letting the blood ooze and the wounds fester and grow until Bucky’s sore and aching from resentment.

He gives Bucky space to breathe yet always remains within arms reach, bandaging him up and reminding him that he is always enough. He feels it in the man’s gentle reminders to eat, when he buys Bucky new books and never demands more from him then what he’s ready to give.

The alpha exhales, remembering burnt cinnamon and bird bones.

“I still want it.” he admits shakingly, opening his mouth to press his canines against the delicate skin of Steve’s neck, wanting to make his intentions clear. Even though the scar is old and worn down, there are still indents from where Bucky’s canines had once pressed into him, and the realization of it sends electricity slicing through his veins.

He wants to cry, knowing that even with a null bond, the remnant of their old lives has still survived in Steve’s body.

He repeats the gesture again, feeling the pleasant flush of nostalgia tickle at his spine as he remembers himself a lifetime ago - eager and naive and so damn desperate to call himself Steve’s, to be an alpha worthy of his omega. “I don’t remember much, I still have a long way to go, but -- “

Bucky can feel the blood thrumming in his ears, can feel the tips of his fingers twitch and dig into Steve’s waist. His body comes alive in that moment, each sense in tune and vigilant to the blond’s every gasp.

“I still want you. Us.”

The universe sings as Steve sags into the wall, his scent spiking and filling the room with a toxic sweetness that momentarily renders the brunet dizzy. Bucky shamelessly inhales a deep breath, letting it out slow and even to savor the moment. Steve responds in kind, tilting his head back to expose the juncture of his throat. There’s a flush to his cheeks, and Bucky can hear the hammering of his pulse.

“Me too, Buck.”

 

***

 

They don’t close their eyes when they kiss. They cling to each other’s gaze as their hands wander, tongues explore. They soar on the excitement that spikes their veins and are desperate to experience every moment of this high together. Like lightning crackling out into the ground, they splinter into each other, bright and unyielding.

 

***

 

Steve sinks into the mattress as Bucky sets the pace, fingers thrusting deep within him and his lips kissing at the tip of Steve’s bent knee. His metal hand roams across Steve’s chest and the omega pushes up into the contact, so overwhelmed with desire that tears begin to well up in the corners of his eyes. He wiggles his hips and feels desire consume him like an all encompassing flame, so hot and scalding that the sensation is damn near blinding.

Slick oozes between his legs and Bucky gives him a wolfish grin, amused by the gleam of his mate’s wet, pale thighs.

He removes his fingers to slip them into his mouth, letting his tongue curl between each finger to have a taste of his eager mate. Bucky hums to himself, getting lost in the flavor and smirking down at his partner. Steve inhales sharply at the sensual gesture, eyes locked on Bucky’s lips.

“Touch me more,” he says, tilting his hips up as he stares up at Bucky with a pleasure drunk expression, “Don’t make me wait, _don’t--_ ”  

“You want more?” Bucky teases, and Steve knows he’s gone, can’t contain his excitement when Bucky finally holds down his hips with both hands and lines up his cock to his entrance. As wonderful as being finger fucked to orgasm is, this is what Steve’s been waiting for, been aching so deeply for after weeks of separation.

Steve is so excited that the breath gets trapped in his throat, unable to do more than vibrate in place when Bucky moves over him, long hair curtaining his face as he rolls his hips to tease at his mate’s well stretched hole.

“Yes,” Steve nods, and Bucky growls from the immediate response, pleased by how pliant his insufferable mate is being. If he wasn’t so strung up, Bucky would tease Steve for hours, twist at his nipples and work him over again and again until Steve’s entire focus was narrowed down to Bucky’s every touch and move.  

Though a wonderful fantasy, they’re both too impatient for that. Instead, Bucky slowly begins to sink his cock into Steve until he’s completely seated within his mate, paying close attention to the way Steve’s brows crease in concentration and his lips open to exhale a long, throaty moan.

“Fuck,” Steve gasps, twisting up off the mattress. Bucky presses in deeper until he slowly begins to thrust forward, grinding and relishing in the way Steve squeaks at the gesture. He repeats it again and again, a slow tease that sends shivers up Steve’s spine and leaves all of his nerve endings exposed and animated. HIs mate shuts his eyes at the jolt of pleasure, bringing the back of his hand over his lips to muffle the steady stream of moans. Grunting, Bucky leans down until his lips find their way to the delicate skin of Steve’s wrist, tip of his tongue outlining the trails of blue veins and finally kissing at the pale patch of skin that’s outlined with bite marks.

When Bucky looks down, hands firmly planted on Steve’s hips to keep his squirming mate steady, the man’s arms come up in response to grip at the alpha’s shoulders, desperate for every ounce of contact. Steve’s nails dig into Bucky’s skin when the brunet angles his hips just right, scratching down Buckys flesh and blood arm until angry red lines follow in it’s wake.

Bucky prays that it leaves a mark.

“Just like that,” Steve gasps, eyes fluttering open, “Oh, _oh!_ So good to me, you’re so good to me, Buck, Bucky --”

The alpha sets a punishing pace, the headboard banging against the wall hard enough to chip the paint. Steve gives a delicious moan when Bucky spreads his legs further apart, flushed cock dribbling against his lower abdomen.  

“Look at me,” Steve pants, gaze heavy as he forces eye contact. “God, look at me, Buck, _please_ \--”

“Jesus,” Bucky gasps, sweat rolling down his skin. Bucky hasn’t looked away from Steve this entire time, but he obliges his mate. He leans down until their foreheads are pressing, hot breath ghosting against kiss bruised lips. Steve keens at the additional attention, fingers curling and teasing at his hair and beckoning him closer. Steve moans and Bucky offers him one back, sweat mingling and body’s humming.

“What’s gotten into you, baby?”

Steve flutters his lashes and keens when Bucky presses into him, all that muscle and smooth skin sprinkled with a scorching blush that lights up their whole room. Steve has a hand tangled in Bucky’s long hair, the other roaming up the alpha’s chest and hooking onto his shoulder. His mate sighs, sweet like every other sound he’s made, and the brunet damn near forgets to breathe.

When Bucky looks at Steve, It’s like looking up into the sun and trusting that it won’t burn you. He watches the way his Stevie’s bright blue eyes focus on him, carrying messages of love and adoration in nothing more than his stare.

 _I love you_ , Steve’s soul sings, body erupting into tremors of pleasure. _I don’t deserve you, you’re all I could have ever asked for and more, and I love you, oh, I love you._

Instead, Steve simply smiles in response. His toes curl, and the blush encompassing his body transforms from a light dust of pink into a crimson red.

“G-Gonna -- “ he gasps, tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes, “B-Buck, Bucky --”

“Go ahead,” his mate answers, teeth grazing against his raging bondmark, “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

“Are you --”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, his movements getting clumsy, hips stuttering after every other thrust. “Yeah, I’m...”

“Don’t pull out,” Steve begs, legs wrapping around Bucky’s waist, his ankles hooking together behind the small of Bucky’s back. “Want it, I want it.”

“You want my knot?” Bucky gives him a toothy grin, biting down on the nape of Steve’s neck hard enough to bruise. “Say it again, baby, or I might just pull out.”

“You’re such a bastard,” Steve whines, gaze unfocused until his eyes finally shut closed. “Don’t you -- you fuckin’ --”

Bucky palms at Steve’s leaking cock and gives him a few quick jerks, and that’s all Steve can handle. The man gives a strangled moan and quickly spills across his abdomen, long spurts of come making it across his chest and up his collarbones. Steve shakes as his orgasm consumes him, and Bucky fucks him through it, thrusts into his mate a few more time before his swelling knot catches against his omega’s rim, locking the two in place.

Bucky exhales a staggered breath and he follows right after, filling Steve just like he’d been waiting for since he left.

The two men are both too overwhelmed to continue quipping at each other. Instead, Bucky collapses over Steve and the blond reciprocates by wrapping both arms around Bucky’s body, tucking the man’s head into the nape of his neck and whispering sweet words into his ear. Bucky groans at the occasional discomfort of his swollen knot, but he lets himself be carried away by Steve’s scent, drifting from the almondy sweetness of his mate. He empties himself inside of Steve and is greeted with kisses and reassurances, unable to help but rut into Steve a few more times as he fills him up.

It feels like hours until the two return back into coherency, too occupied by exchanging kisses and delving into each other’s presence. When Bucky finally slips out of him, come dribbling out from Steve’s well-stretched entrance, the omega gives his mate a fiendish smirk.

“Jesus Barnes, you were really backed up, weren’t you?”

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pulling Steve back into his arms. “You act like you weren’t just begging for it.”

“Me? _Begging?_ ” Steve kisses his stubbled cheek, feigning innocence. “Never.”

The sheets have gone tacky before either decide to move, and the morning light slowly begins to filter into their bedroom. Steve stretches, letting his limbs pop and crack as he sinks back into the clean side of their mattress. He glances over at Bucky and catches the man staring at him, stormy grey eyes relaxed yet fixated on his mate.

“So...” Bucky begins eloquently. Steve immediately snickers at him, but Bucky remains firm on his resolve, not so easily deterred. The alpha shuffles in closer, his voice going soft, and Steve bats his lashes like he doesn’t have a clue what it could possibly be about.

“We gonna talk about earlier, sweetheart?”

A smile immediately starts tugging at Steve’s lips, the omega basking in the afterglow of orgasm but overflowing with the reminder of their situation.

Steve darts his tongue out to swipe past his dry lips, eyes crinkling in the corners.

He wishes he had more time to choose his words carefully, to plan out an entire scene of when and where and _how_ he’d tell Bucky the news. He thinks about wanting to wait, about being meticulous in his reveal, maybe even delaying it a few weeks when he could actually have an ultrasound done. It sounds cute, but terribly unrealistic. Bucky is staring at him with every unwavering concentration and it is taking every last ounce of Steve’s self-control to not let it slip from his tongue, to not blurt this out like some overeager confession.

He bites at his bottom lip, and can’t help but smirk.

“Doc said I had morning sickness.” he says casually, as if his whole body hasn’t started sprouting flowers.

Bucky’s body immediately sags in relief, able to release the breath he’s been holding this whole time. “Mhmm,” his partner hums all-knowing, tucking his nose into the crook of Steve’s neck, right over his pulse point where his scent is strongest. “Morning sickness. Didn’t I tell you? I knew you were --”

The brunet pauses, eyes suddenly going wide as he immediately sits up, staring at Steve with unwavering focus.

“Wait.. _.what?_ ”

Steve simply responds with a soft giggle, his eyes vibrant and his smile endearing. His expression softens, going tender and weak with happiness. He brings a hand up and cups at Bucky’s cheek while the brunet stares down at him dumbly, eyes searching for some sort of explanation. He watches Bucky’s eyes dart up his face, down his stomach, and skittering back up towards their bondmark.

“You said... _morning_ sickness? As in, the kind where --”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, chuckling to himself. He brings his other hand over to his midsection and Bucky’s eyes follow the movement, the alpha scrambling to lean in closer. He blinks once, twice, and his body nearly feels as though thunder is rumbling through it, the realization so visceral it shakes him to his core.

“Are you serious?” Bucky whispers, mirroring Steve’s action by bringing his flesh and blood hand to cover at his mates. “Stevie, sweetheart, you gotta tell me, you gotta --”

“I’m pregnant, Buck.” He feels light admitting that, as if this is some far away dream he’ll soon wake up from. “Six weeks. I’m - we’re gonna be --”

“Oh God,” Bucky gasps, leaning down closer until their foreheads press together, noses bumping clumsily, “Oh my _God_ , Steve…”

He leans in and kisses Steve’s plump lips, gives his soul and body and very being into the gesture, and Steve returns it, strong arms coming over to wrap around Bucky’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin to keep him close.

“Tell me again,” Bucky begs, voice cracking and breath hitching. “Again, _please_.”

So Steve does, right into the curve of Bucky’s ears, where he lets his lips graze against the sensitive skin each time his mouth forms those delicate words.

Bucky kisses him again and again, immerses himself in Steve’s skin and touch and taste and drowns in it all until the two men aren’t certain who began crying first.

“Fuck,” Bucky whimpers, fingers hungry as they roam Steve’s body, “Is that why?”

Steve sighs at the attention, but he looks over at his partner, quipping a brow in confusement.

“Your scent. God, your _scent_ , baby. Been smellin’ so good lately, more sweet, like cream or milk. ‘S been driving me crazy, never wanna leave your side, never wanna let anyone close enough to smell you.”

“Bucky,” Steve sighs, so damn overwhelmed with lightness that he feels like he could just float away. “C’mon, kiss me, already. I need it.”

“I’ve been kissin’ ya,” Bucky smiles, delighting in the way his mate tilts his head up to expose the kiss bitten juncture of his neck.

“Not enough,” Steve sighs, mouth open and lazy as Bucky sucks a new hickey next to his bond mark, “Want more.”

 

**

 

Bucky’s eyes travel up the length of Steve’s spine, watching the blond casually handle slices of turkey and messy slices of avocado. He’s wearing one of Bucky’s old t-shirts, but he can still distinctly smell the sweetness of Steve’s scent underneath it, can still taste him on the back of his tongue if he breathes deep enough. Bucky lets himself soar on the delightfulness of it, each sense consumed and focused on his mate.

He watches Steve, takes note of every languid movement and shuffling sound he makes. Bucky catches sight of the impressive bruises which have blossomed along the nape of Steve’s neck, and he can’t wait until they disappear, is eager to worship this man all over again and be granted a new canvas to do so with.

He looks at Steve and is reminded of everything that is right with the world. Life flows through his veins like streams of water coursing through terrain, and it carries him away, grabs him by the collar and kisses his cheek and reminds him of the joy of living. How blessed he is to wake up every morning with that reminder, and Bucky can’t help but sigh, so damn entranced by the reminder that his fantasy of happiness is also reality.

Steve’s back is turned to him as he prepares their lunch, but Bucky thinks of his mate’s clever eyes, of the juncture of his throat, of his beautiful body, thick with muscle, slowly becoming soft and round with pups. Steve’s scent is always so damn good, and Bucky wonders how it’ll change over the months, if it’ll become more sweet, if his partner will stay stubborn or slowly come to accept Bucky’s coddling with more ease as the months slowly inch by.

Bucky idly wonders if this is how his pa felt, first time he heard his mate was pregnant. He knew his parents married for love, but did his heart rage like Bucky’s did? Did it thunder and clash, splitting the earth under his feet? Did it drown him in joy or send him adrift across the backs of waves like it does to Bucky? The primal part of Bucky is eager to hear his mate is carrying his child, and as much as that swells his pride, it is so much _more_ than that -- more than merely carrying the Barnes’ legacy and continuing his lineage.

He could never have kids with Steve and never live a day of regret, but to know that another part of him lives in his mate’s body, that life is surging and growing and that Steve trusts and loves him enough to also be content with this, sends Bucky’s thoughts swirling in a frenzy of complete adoration.

Steve casually sets down the jar of mayo and turns around, a brow perked in amusement. “You alright there, soldier?” he teases, already moving towards his mate. “I can practically hear you thinking. You’re not exactly being subtle over there.”

He stops in front of Bucky, and the brunet just looks up at his mate, unable to breathe.

It’s like looking up into the sun and trusting that it won’t burn you, and as Bucky brings his hands up, skittering up Steve’s waist and pulling him closer into his orbit, he settles that he doesn’t quite mind burning.

Being near Steve is worth the risk.

“I love you,” Bucky says dumbly, unable to supply much else. His heart roars and rages like the tides clashing against a harbor, and he buries his face into Steve’s midsection, hands gentle yet firm as they hold him in place. “I love you, Steven Grant Rogers. Don't think I could ever imagine living a day without you.”

Steve simply smiles down at him, endeared as he ruffles at Bucky’s unruly hair. “You’re such a sap.” he smiles, before leaning down to kiss him.

They let the kiss drag on, long enough for Bucky to coax Steve onto his lap and for the blonde to get comfortable. Steve cards his fingers through Bucky's hair and Bucky sighs into his mate's mouth, completely at ease in having his mate so close to him. He kisses up the juncture of Steve's throat, buries his face into his baby's blonde hair and starts nipping at the lobe of his ear, unable to help himself.

Steve sighs gratefully at the gesture, tilting his head to give Bucky better access. "Hey, Buck?" his voice is so small in that moment, and Bucky slowly sits back to return eye contact, their foreheads pressing together. He gives Steve his unwavering focus, and he can tell his mate is nervous, from the way he's biting his lip and averting his gaze.

"I know we didn't get to talk about it," he starts, shifting uncomfortably in Bucky's lap. "I -- wasn't even sure if you still _wanted_ kids. I know you did, way before, but that was a lifetime ago, and I didn't want to assume. I didn't mean to just impose this on you, I know this -- it's not --"

"Steve," Bucky begins, and his voice is calm and reassuring, pulling Steve out from his head space. "Stevie," he calls out again, and he waits until Steve looks up at him, leans into Bucky's embrace. The omega stares up expectantly at his mate, and Bucky can only smile.

"I'm happy." he says simply, and Steve's lip twitches.

"You are?"

"I swear. I know this wasn't how we imagined it to happen, but I'm so damn happy, Steve. Knowing I get to have this with you."

Steve swallows hard, and he can't help but chuckle, trying to hide the way tears are glossing over his eyes. "You promise you're not...upset? This is -- it's a lot, Buck. For me to just shove on you one day. I'm happy, I am, I'm just --"

"I know, baby," Bucky begins, and he kisses up Steve's temple, brings a hand over to smooth down the length of his back. "God, you're so good to me, sweet thing. You care so much."

"Of course I do," he pouts, wrapping his arms around Bucky's neck, "You're my mate. Want to make sure we're both on the same page."

"And we are." Bucky continues kissing across Steve's cheeks and face until the omega sags into his arms, lets himself relax and melt into the warmth of his alpha's arms. Bucky continues until Steve's breathing has slowed a bit, the spike of anxiety in his scent dissipating. "I could never be upset about this. Can't wait to see you all warm and soft with my pups, watch you glow. You're gonna be sick of me pampering you by the end of it, doll."

"I'm already sick of it," Steve lies, and Bucky just smiles at it, kisses his baby right on his pouty red lips. 

Bucky kisses Steve once, then twice, repeats the gesture over and over again until Steve is smiling and giggly, giving into the attention. "You're too good to me, sweetheart. Got no damn clue how I got so lucky."

"You're too much," the blond smiles, kissing against Bucky's stubbled cheek. "It's not gonna be easy, never really saw myself getting pregnant, but...we'll make it work, Buck. So long as I have you."

"Yeah," Bucky nods, eyes soft. "We will, baby."

They eat quickly, and if Steve doesn't fight Bucky as he's carried and taken back to bed, well, Bucky won't say anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had several other scenes planned out for this chapter, but it got way too long and I've left all you lovely's waiting long enough so I'll just leave them reserved for the next chapter. 
> 
> A super big thank you to everyone for your wonderful support!!! All of your comments and kudos' keep me going and really brighten up my day, you're all wonderful! c:
> 
> I can't promise a speedy update as life is quite hectic, but hey, I also just posted this the week I have 2 midterms and a paper due, so I'm kinda unreliable lmao

**Author's Note:**

> I have this personal idea that amongst mated pairs, pregnancy symptoms such as morning sickness or overall fatigue only become amplified if the omega and alpha spend more than a few days apart. Esp in early pregnancy the separation strains the omega and manifests into more aggressive symptoms. Hence why Steve is yackin' all over the place. 
> 
> Chapter 2 will switch briefly to Bucky's POV, include nsfw content, and ultimately lots of emotions with love and cuddles.
> 
> In the meantime, find me on [tumblr](http://badbrooklynbitch.tumblr.com/) c: I love making new friends!!


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